


The Kings and the Sex Addiction

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [24]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Humor, M/M, Romance, Sex Addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:53:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3756916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Much to my surprise, I have managed to write another story about this pair.  A bang on the head brings about some unexpected consequences and Thranduil breaks Thorin’s heart once more.   Oh dear, when will these two ever get to live their lives without all this pain and angst?  Never, I hope, LOL!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kings and the Sex Addiction

 

.o00o.

 

The Kings and the Sex Addiction

 

Pt I

 

“The course of true love never did run smooth.”

 

It was very odd, thought Thorin, as Thranduil crawled all over him, how their personalities changed once they were in bed with each other.  The icy, aloof  elven king who always seemed to be in complete control of himself and the situation,  suddenly dissolved into a passionate and emotional mess; whilst Thorin,  strong and stoical, exuding warmth and confidence, became shy, hesitant and easily embarrassed.

Thranduil was doing his best to embarrass him now, nuzzling his throat and going on and on about how beautiful he was.  Thorin was lying with one hand behind his head, and the elf kissed the hollow of his powerful throat and then buried his nose and face in his armpit and began to kiss him there.  His armpit, for goodness’ sake!  And Thorin quickly brought down his hand from behind his head and pressed his arm firmly to his side.  Thranduil purred against the dwarf’s chest.  “Oh, my love,” he laughed.  “It’s just so easy to disconcert you, isn’t it?”  And he climbed astride Thorin’s thighs and began sucking and biting him all the way down his body and rubbing his face against his lover’s thick pelt.  The dwarf smelled of sex and sweat after a lively night and the elven king growled lasciviously.  The morning hadn’t come yet, he was very glad to say.

 

Thorin cleared his throat.  “Umm.   I think I need a bath,” he muttered as the elf began to suck on his exhausted cock.  It had had a hard time.

 

“No, you don’t,” returned Thranduil.  “You smell really good.  I like you this way.”

 

Thorin tutted.  “You’re such an animal, Thranduil,” he sighed, rolling his eyes.

 

“And you’re such a prude,” was the laughing response.  “But I just can’t tell you how arousing that is, my little innocent.  I am a pool of jelly at your feet.”  And, by this time, Thranduil had, indeed, made his way to Thorin’s feet.  There, he seized him firmly by the ankle – he guessed at the dwarf’s response – and sucked his big toe into his mouth.

 

“Thranduil!” yelped Thorin in horror.  But, the elf refused to let him go and carried on sucking steadily until a rather surprised dwarven king found himself writhing in pleasure. 

 

The elf finally looked up and grinned.  “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” he said.

 

“No, I didn’t,” replied Thorin emphatically.  “That was disgusting!”

 

“I think not,” continued Thranduil.  And he reached up to stroke the dwarf’s now engorged member.

 

“Coincidence!” snorted his lover.  But, by now, the elven king was back astride his hips and was riding his erection with a look of intense pleasure.   And, when he finally came, he bent forward to rub the cum all over Thorin’s chest, an expectant grin on his face.  He wasn’t disappointed.  The dwarf, with a pained expression, reached for the towel at the side of the bed.  Then he wiped himself clean and, seizing Thranduil by the wrist, he carefully wiped his hand and every finger, as if he were a mucky child.

 

The elf roared with laughter and, tossing the towel to one side, he stretched himself out on the dwarf’s broad chest.  “Oh, Thorin, Thorin,” he sighed gleefully.  “You would make such a good housewife.”

 

“And what do you mean by that?” grumbled the dwarf indignantly.

 

“I mean,” said Thranduil, his eyes dancing, “that you’re just too clean and proper for all this dirty sex business.”

 

Thorin tried to push him off.  “Well, if that’s what you think then you’d better find someone else more to your taste,” he muttered.

 

“But, you are to my taste,” murmured the elf huskily in his ear.  “Everything about you is to my taste.  And I just can’t wait to taste you again.”  And, with that, he thrust his tongue into Thorin’s mouth and kissed him with such passion that the dwarf finally melted, groaning, in his arms.  Thranduil was triumphant.   “Talk dirty to me, Thorin,” he grinned.  “Show me you can.”

 

Thorin was annoyed and racked his brain for all the filthiest things he could think of and then he talked dirty to Thranduil for the next half hour, just to prove he could.  The elven king was amused and aroused in equal measure and finally unable to contain his excitement any more, he thrust into the dwarf and panted out his pleasure on his breast.  “That was good – you were good,” he gasped.  “I knew you could do it.”  And he gave a shout of laughter.  But Thorin was not amused and needed a lot of wheedling and fondling and some clever finger work before he came himself.  The elf caught his wrist this time before he could reach for the towel and the two finally dozed off with the cum drying between them.

 

.o00o.

 

It was an hour after sunrise before Thorin woke up and then he slipped out of bed quickly and into the bathing pool before Thranduil could stop him.  Through the open door, he could see the elf stir and open one eye with a groan.  He was lolling over the side of the bed and didn’t exactly look ready to greet the day joyfully.

 

“Come on!” shouted the dwarven king.  “Or you’ll be late for breakfast.”

 

“Too tired,” muttered the elf.

 

But, when Thorin called again, he struggled out of bed, made his way with some difficulty to the pool, slithered into the water…….then sat on the dwarf’s lap and went back to sleep on his shoulder.  Thorin sighed, picked up a soapy sponge and gently washed them both.  “There,” he murmured.  “Nice and clean.”  Then he shook his lover awake again.  “Do you know what I think we should do every morning, starting today, just to help raise your energy levels?” he asked.

 

“Have a good fuck at least three times before breakfast?” suggested the elf optimistically, raising his gaze sleepily.

 

“In your state, I don’t think you could manage even one, let alone three,” laughed the dwarf.

 

“Try me,” murmured Thranduil, nibbling on his ear.

 

“Well,” said Thorin, “in order to help you achieve your purpose, I suggest that we eat a light breakfast before exercising every day in the practice yard.  I can’t remember the last time that you had a bit of exercise – and it shows.”

 

“I am the greatest warrior on Middle-earth!” said the elf indignantly.

 

“ _Were_ ,” replied Thorin.  “I bet I can give you a run for your money these days, the way you were puffing and panting last night.”

 

Thranduil was wide awake now and gave a huge snort.  Then he hauled himself out of the pool and got dressed.  “Well, I’m ready,” he said snottily as Thorin towelled himself dry.  The dwarf smiled quietly to himself.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt II

 

“Lay on, Macduff,

And damn'd be him that first cries, _Hold, enough_!"

 

The two kings ate their light breakfast – “But I’m hungry still,” complained Thranduil as Thorin dragged him away – and then they collected their weapons from the apartment before descending to the practice yard.  They both wore mail and leather – nothing too heavy or constricting – but Thorin wielded both an axe and his sword, Orcrist, whilst Thranduil chose only to use his sword.  “Makes you faster on your feet,” he claimed.

 

The word soon spread that the two kings were going to fight together and, immediately, the yard and balconies were packed with onlookers.  The pair circled each other and Thorin grinned – which suddenly made Thranduil feel quite anxious: he couldn’t afford to lose and diminish the honour of elves.

 

When finally they clashed, the elven king fought with grace and poise, the dwarf with strength…..and dirty tactics.  If he had had a struggle talking dirty with Thranduil earlier that morning, then he had no problems _fighting_ dirty now.  His boots were very big and had a habit of shooting out slyly to trip up the elf.  After a few incidents when Thranduil nearly fell flat on his face, much to the amusement of the onlookers, he became more cautious and took things more carefully.

 

This caution provoked a few gibes, another weapon in Thorin’s armoury: “There you go,” he called after the elf had made a wary attack upon him.  “Just like I said: getting fat and slow.”  The audience laughed again, especially amused at the idea that this slender king could ever be fat.   _Good_ , thought Thorin, as he saw his lover become irritated and a bit reckless.

 

Then Thorin tried another trick.  As they came together, their weapons locked, their faces inches from each other, the dwarf pressed a knee into the elven king’s groin and looked up at him through long, black lashes.  Thranduil gasped and was distracted both by the knee and by the startlingly blue eyes which seemed to promise so much.  And, as his sword arm weakened suddenly, his weapon was spun out of his hand.

 

Thorin leaped back with a laugh and placed his sword-point at Thranduil’s throat.  “Do you yield to me, elf?” he asked in a silken voice.  Then, in a quiet whisper: “Do you yield to me here in the dirt, this very minute, my love?” The audience were cheering and applauding; Thorin was smirking and Thranduil was furious.  With an unexpected and swift movement, he knocked Orcrist away and, in a graceful spin, picked up his fallen sword and fell upon the dwarven king with a flurry of strokes.  Thorin, still grinning, managed to parry the hail of blows, but then struck the sword from his hand once more with his axe.

 

But, the haft of the axe caught the elf a glancing blow on the temple so that he staggered and fell to the ground.  Thorin immediately dropped his own weapons and cradled Thranduil in his arms, looking horrified at what he had done.  Thranduil’s eyes fluttered.  “Are you all right?” the dwarf asked.  

 

“I think so,” he replied.  “Just a bit dizzy.”  And so Thorin helped him to his feet and escorted him back to his room where he insisted that he lie down and sleep for a while.

 

.o00o.

It was a lovely day and the dwarven king sat out on the balcony all afternoon, waiting for his lover to recover.  Eventually, he felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up to find the elf standing there.  “How do you feel?” he asked, giving the bruise on Thranduil’s temple a slightly worried look. 

 

The elf touched it lightly.  “It hurts a little but otherwise I’m fine,” he responded.

 

Thorin stood up with a smile and took him in his arms, sliding his hands around his waist and pushing his knee provocatively into his partner’s groin once more.  “Go on, admit it,” he laughed.  “It was the knee that finished you off, wasn’t it?  How much did it affect your concentration?”

 

Thranduil gave him an odd look and then moved away.  “Come on,” he said.  “It must be time for dinner and I’m ravenous.”

 

 _O-ho_ , thought the dwarf, following him with a smile.  _He’s a really bad loser.  How long will it take him to get over it?_

But, down in the dining hall, everything seemed normal.  The elf chatted animatedly with the other dwarves about fighting technique and seemed to take their joshing over his losing to Thorin in good part.  The dwarven king couldn’t wait to be alone with him so that he could make things up to him for all the dirty tricks he had used during their fight together _.  I’ll be really repentant_ , he thought, _and I’ll let him screw me as many times as he likes – even first thing in the morning – just to make him good-humoured again……….nor will I reach for that towel._   And he laughed to himself.

 

Back in their apartment, Thranduil got undressed and climbed into bed.  Thorin quickly followed.  The elf lay there, stiff and still, so the dwarf put on his wheedling voice and reached out to caress him.  “I’m really sorry,” he said, “for all those tricks – it wasn’t very sporting of me.  I’m sure you would have won without them.”

 

No response.

 

“And so, as a reward, what would you like to do to me?” he continued huskily.  Thranduil was more annoyed with him than he had first thought.

 

“Anything,” he added, just to make sure that his lover understood.  There were one or two things that he didn’t like doing.  Perhaps the elf would be tempted by these thoughts.

 

“I’m tired,” said Thranduil,” and rolled away. 

 

Thorin kissed him gently on his shoulder.  “Perhaps tomorrow morning,” he said, hoping that the elven king would appreciate the gesture from a not-morning person.  Then, with a bit of difficulty, he also went to sleep.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt I

 

“I am falser than vows made in wine.”

 

When Thorin woke up the next morning, the sun was just rising.  A ray of light shone upon the elf’s alabaster shoulder and he was moved to think that this ethereal being was in love with him and wanted him both physically and emotionally.  He thought about the number of times he had rejected his partner’s advances in the early hours because he was too tired and told himself severely: _Must Try Harder_!

 

Well, he would try to make up for this casual lack of response and he reached out to caress Thranduil’s hair.  Then, as the elf began to stir, rolling over on his back, he climbed on top of him and kissed him deeply and tenderly.  But, it was his lover who – most unusually - wasn’t playing ball this morning.  Thranduil pushed him off and snapped: “Look, Thorin, haven’t I made it clear that I don’t want you?”   Then, he got up from the bed and went to have a bath.

 

Thorin lay there, feeling confused.  It was the elf’s choice of words.  If he had said: “Well, if you think I’m going to let you fuck me after that performance in the yard yesterday, then you’ve got another think coming,” he would have understood.  And if he had said: “Leave me alone – my head still hurts,” he would have understood that too.  But, he had said, instead, “I don’t want you.”  And suddenly Thorin felt very anxious.

 

He got up slowly and followed Thranduil to the bathing pool.  The elf had just got out and was towelling himself dry.  “What’s wrong?” asked Thorin quietly.

 

“Nothing’s wrong,” replied the elven king curtly.  And then he got dressed and went downstairs for his breakfast.  There, Thorin sat next to him but he was deep in conversation with Dwalin.  Whatever it was that they were talking about, Thranduil was obviously finding it very entertaining; his eyes sparkled, his voice was lively and one arm was draped around Dwalin’s shoulder.  His dwarven friend looked very pleased that he had won the good will of the elf after so much bad feeling had been generated by his one-night stand with Thorin.  The dwarven king should have been pleased too: instead, their interaction made him very uneasy.

 

“Shall we go?” he asked as the meal finished. 

 

“No,” said the elf coolly.  “I’m off to the library.  I’ll see you later.”  But, when Thorin was gone, he made his exit with Dwalin.  They walked down the long corridors together, en route both to Dwalin’s apartment and the library.  But, when they stopped outside Dwalin’s door, Thranduil suddenly asked if he could come in.  “I want to talk about Thorin,” he said.

 

The big dwarf was worried: he had had a feeling that something was wrong between the two kings as he had watched their interaction this morning.  And he opened his door and waved the elf inside.  Thranduil turned on his heel the moment that they entered the apartment and stood very close.  “Thorin has been telling me all about your – intimacy,” he said.  “What you did together.”

 

Dwalin looked appalled and turned a bright pink.

 

Thranduil stood even closer and looked at the dwarf through half-closed eyes.  “He tells me that your prick is too big for penetration……And that intrigues me.”

 

The dwarf grew even redder and stood in an embarrassed silence.  How could Thorin discuss such things with his partner?

 

And then the elven king’s hand shot out and grasped him between the legs.  “Ah, yes,” he murmured huskily.  “I see what he means, and you not even aroused yet.  We shall have to do something about that.”  And he began to stroke him through the material of his breeches.  Dwalin, backed up against the door, felt like a trapped animal.

 

The king was breathing heavily in his ear now.  “Perhaps too big for Thorin,” he whispered, “but not too big for me.  Shall we have a trial run?”  And his hand suddenly slid down inside the waistband to encompass bare flesh.

 

At that moment, Dwalin came to his senses.  He drew himself away, out of the elf’s clutches, and said carefully: “I think there has been a misunderstanding here.”  And then he opened his door.

 

“You think so?” the king asked.  “But, if you insist.”  And, with a sardonic smile, he made his exit from the room.  Dwalin locked the door behind him and collapsed against it with a sigh of relief.  And the question was: should he tell Thorin about this incident or not?

 

.o00o.

 

Thorin had spent most of the day in his apartment, wondering sadly what had gone wrong between him and Thranduil.  The elven king was suddenly so cold and distant, as if he no longer wanted any physical contact with the dwarf.  Surely it wasn’t all because of that silly fight?  And, even if he were indignant and angry over Thorin’s methods out in the practice yard, he found it almost impossible to believe that the elf no longer seemed to want to touch him.  How could all that passion suddenly disappear in a puff of smoke?

 

There was a tentative knock at the door and Dwalin came in, looking rather apprehensive.

 

“Umm, I need to talk about Thranduil,” he muttered.

 

Somehow, this didn’t surprise Thorin.  He presumed that others had noticed the odd way in which the elf was treating him.  He gestured his friend to a seat but, before anything could be said, Brangwyn, the beautiful dwarf woman and his heir’s wife, came bursting into the apartment.  She stood aghast in the middle of the room, shocked and red-faced: “It’s Thranduil!” she gasped.

 

Thorin leaped to his feet.  “What’s happened to him?” he exclaimed in fear.

 

“Nothing’s happened to him,” snapped Brangwyn.  “It’s what he’s done.”

 

She was shaking and he led her to a chair, held her hand and said quietly: “Now tell me about it.  You seem very upset.”

 

“Not so much upset as really, really angry,” she said in furious tones.  “How dare he!”

 

Dwalin somehow knew what was coming next.

 

“I’m sorry, Thorin,” she continued in her usual blunt manner, “but you’ve got to know.  Thranduil has just propositioned me in the library.”

 

“He _what_?” exploded the king.

 

“I went into the library to check out something and Thranduil was there.  He kissed my hand in a strange, smarmy way and then he suddenly pulled me into his arms, told me that he had always wanted me, shoved his tongue halfway down my throat and grabbed hold of one of my breasts.  The filth he poured into my ear at that moment is nobody’s business.”  She paused a second for breath.  “I slapped him around the face and marched away…..I can’t tell my husband because he’ll kill him – or, rather, Thranduil will kill my husband.  So, you’ve got to sort this out, Thorin.  He’s your partner.”

 

Thorin sat there with his mouth open, hardly believing her.  But, then Dwalin chimed in.  “I’m afraid that I’ve just come to tell you the same thing, Thorin.  He assaulted me too.  It was very shocking but I can’t help but feel there’s something wrong with him.”

 

“Exactly my thoughts,” agreed Brangwyn, “and that’s why we need to consult a doctor.”

 

.o00o.

 

Pt IV

 

“Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased?”

 

The three anxious friends sat in a ring around Oin, waiting for an opinion.  Oin adjusted his ear trumpet.

 

“Well, it seems to me,” he said, “that the bang on the head has effected a personality change and he has become a sex addict.”

 

“That’s old news,” muttered Thorin.  “He always was.”

 

“No,” said Brangwyn, patting him gently on the hand, “this is something different.  He was always addicted to you and never so much as looked at any other dwarf.  Now the situation has reversed: he is ignoring you but going after everyone else.  He’s probably stalking another dwarf this very minute and we need to warn everyone that he’s not well.  If he approaches them, they must be very firm – and then report back to you.”

 

The others nodded in agreement.

 

In fact, Brangwyn was right.  As they spoke, Thranduil was screwing a young dwarf over a library table.  The young lad had innocently come in for a particular scroll and had been swept off his feet in a tide of quite unexpected passion.  Flattered and curious, he had succumbed to the elven king’s advances.  The warning that soon went out that everyone had to treat the elf with the utmost caution eventually came too late for him.  And so, he tightly buttoned his lip – and his breeches - and swore to himself that no-one would ever know how foolish he had been.

 

Thranduil, meanwhile, momentarily satisfied, sat and pondered what he should do.  Now that his interest in Thorin had so curiously drained away, should he return to Mirkwood?  No, he thought wolfishly, it was so much more fun here: a mountain full of gorgeous dwarves.  Dwalin and Brangwyn were his main objects of desire and he was rather disappointed at his failure with them.  He must try again.  In the meantime, the library was a good place to lurk with intent.  And he touched himself as his prick hardened again at the thought.

 

Back in Oin’s study, Thorin was asking how long the elf’s problem would last and what he must do about it.

 

“Who knows how long this could go on for?” replied Oin.  “The change might be permanent.  But, in the meantime, perhaps you can sort of woo him - try to create some attraction in him for you.”

 

Thorin sighed.  This wasn’t going to be easy.  Dwalin and Brangwyn looked at each other: they needed to have a chat in private.

 

.o00o.

 

Thorin arrived back in his apartment an hour later.  Thranduil was already there, sitting out on the balcony.  The dwarven king approached him shyly with a bunch of flowers in his hand.   “For you,” he said, offering them to the elf. 

 

Thranduil took them curiously.  “These are pretty,” he said.  “Where did you get them from?”

 

“Oh, I just rode out on the plain – I know where they grow.  I thought they would remind you of Mirkwood,” was the response.

 

The elf smiled and bent to inhale their perfume.  Thorin reached out to touch his hair.  The elf looked irritated and, rising to his feet, strode into the other room where he cast the flowers casually to one side and sat down at a table.  “I shall be busy reading all afternoon,” he said curtly, pointing to a pile of documents.  His lover gave up and went down to the kitchens.

 

There he persuaded one of the cooks to help him make some strawberry tartlets, just like the ones that Thranduil had made him when he was trying to win his favour.  An hour later, he entered his rooms, carefully carrying a covered plate.  Well, that had been hard work, he thought.

 

“I’ve just made these for you,” he said, placing the plate on the table and revealing the contents.  Thranduil stared at the pretty, heart-shaped confections.

 

“Just like the ones I made for you,” he said.

 

“That’s right,” replied Thorin encouragingly.  “You made them to show your love for me.”

 

The elf waved away the plate dismissively.  “I’ll try one later,” he said.  “I’m busy now.”  Thorin went out onto the balcony to think.

 

He waited a short time and then he made tea, serving up a hot drink and a couple of tarts to the elf.  Thranduil felt obliged to stop working and settled back in his chair to take some refreshment.  Now that the elf was no longer absorbed in his paperwork, Thorin made his play.  “I think I’ll just have a bath,” he said casually, “whilst you’re eating that.”  And he stood a few feet in front of his lover and pulled his shirt over his head.  His superb chest was exposed: the rippling muscles, the huge biceps, the massive shoulders, decorated with tattoos and covered in a layer of silken hair.   Thorin hated doing this.  He wondered why the elven king found his body so attractive and was always reluctant to parade it in front of him, no matter how much Thranduil wheedled him to do so.  But….needs must.

 

He sauntered across the room and helped himself to a tartlet which he ate.  Then he stretched languorously so that his waist narrowed and his breeches slipped below the level of his navel.  From there, he slowly undid his belt and pulled his breeches down to his ankles, kicking them to one side.  He turned, revealing his round buttocks which the elf usually spent so much time squeezing and kissing, then bent to pick up his clothes from the floor, exposing himself completely.

 

Inwardly, he cringed but he knew that he had Thranduil’s attention and he pressed on.  Completely naked, he walked slowly towards him and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder, his body only inches away, within kissing distance.  He thrust his hips forward, suggestively.  “Are you coming too?” he asked huskily.  And he held his breath.

 

Thranduil turned away from him, back to his documents.  “No,” he said in bored tones.  “You go ahead.”

 

Thorin felt totally humiliated.  He had tried everything – things that it had embarrassed him to do – and he had been rejected.  Moreover, he had seen a look of distaste and scorn in his partner’s eyes.  He went and lay in the bathing pool for a long time, with his eyes closed.  When he got out, he found that the elf had gone.

 

Thranduil had gone on the hunt down to the dining hall.  Much to his delight, he saw his main quarries, Dwalin and Brangwyn, sitting in conversation together.  Then, even more to his delight, Dwalin beckoned him over.  Perhaps the big dwarf had decided that an encounter with him might be an exciting adventure.  And his cock stirred beneath his robes.

 

As he sat down, Brangwyn smiled complicitly at them both.  “Well, I’ll just leave you two boys to it,” she said, rising from her chair.  Thranduil was disappointed: he had been hoping for a threesome.  But, another day, perhaps.  He watched Brangwyn disappear from the hall and then turned back to Dwalin.  Much to his surprise, the dwarf took the initiative and covered his slender fingers with a large hand.  “I’ve been thinking about what happened earlier between us,” he murmured.  “And the idea excites me.  Let’s go back to my apartment.”

 

The elf licked his lips and rose to his feet.  Together they walked in silent expectation down the long corridors together.  _The things I do for Thorin_ , thought Dwalin, groaning inwardly.  Inside his rooms, the dwarf took the king in his arms and edged him backwards, towards his curtained bed.  As Thranduil’s back brushed the velvet drapes, Dwalin said, “Kiss me!” in deep, throbbing tones.  And Thranduil yanked him forward and clamped his lips upon those of the dwarf.

 

“Quickly,” gasped the king.  “I cannot wait any longer.  Let me feel your naked prick.”  And he scrabbled with his belt.

 

 _Come on, Brangwyn_ ,  Dwalin was thinking desperately.  _Get me out of this_.  And, suddenly and silently, the dwarf woman appeared, standing on the bed behind the elven king, with a large cosh in her hand.  This she swung with powerful ease and she brought it down heavily on the back of the elf’s head.  Without a sound, Thranduil crumpled to the floor.

 

“And if that doesn’t resolve the problem,” she said to Dwalin, “then nothing will.”

 

“I hope we’re right about this,” replied the dwarf anxiously.

 

.o00o.

 

It was half an hour before Thranduil regained consciousness, by which time, the two dwarves had lifted him upon the bed.  “What happened?” he asked groggily.

 

“I hit you with a cosh,” responded Brangwyn.

 

The elven king’s eyes opened wide.  “Why on earth did you do that?” he snapped.

 

“Because you had a bang on the head the other day which made you behave very, very badly.  We thought another bang would pull you out of it,” was the phlegmatic reply.

 

“And has it?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

 

“Let’s see,” she said in amused tones.  “Do you feel like sucking Dwalin’s cock or grabbing one of my breasts?”

 

Thranduil’s mouth twisted in disgust.  “Of course I don’t,” he scowled.  “The idea is revolting.”

 

Brangwyn laughed.  “Well, thank you, my lord, for that vote of confidence.  I’m sure that we shall both feel very inadequate about ourselves for the rest of the day.”

 

The king looked very confused.  “But you know I only fancy Thorin,” he said.  “The thought of touching either of you…..”  And he trailed off in embarrassment.

 

“Keep digging,” Dwalin growled.  And then the two of them burst into gales of relieved laughter.

 

“I wish someone would explain,” said the king pathetically.

 

“You’ve been very, very unkind to Thorin,” explained the dwarf woman severely.  “So, when we get you home, you must be very nice to him, to make up for things.”

 

Thranduil suddenly grinned.  “Well, I do remember _him_ being very nice to _me_ , before I came down to the dining hall.  He made me strawberry tarts, then took off all his clothes and pranced about naked within inches of me.”  Then his brow furrowed.  “I can’t imagine why I didn’t take advantage of him.”

 

“You’ve got all night to take advantage of him,” said the practical Brangwyn.  “Let’s just say that we are very relieved that that’s what you actually want to do.”

 

And, between them, they hurried him down the corridors to Thorin’s apartments.

 

.o00o.

 

Thorin rose anxiously to his feet when the pair helped Thranduil into the room.

 

“He’s a bit shaky,” said Brangwyn.  “I hit him on the head.  But it worked……He’s fine now.”

 

Thorin wrapped his arms about the one he loved, almost crying with relief.

 

“Take me to bed, my love,” the elf whispered in his ear.  And the two dwarven friends made a polite exit.

 

And what a night it was!  Thranduil certainly did his best to make up for what had happened and Thorin, in response, was game for anything.

 

The next morning, he left the elven king fast asleep in bed and hobbled down to breakfast.  There, he sat down very, very gingerly next to his two friends.  They both spluttered with laughter.

 

“I take it that Thranduil showed you how sorry he was – repeatedly,” grinned Dwalin.

 

Thorin grimaced.  “I came down to thank you but now I’m not so sure I’m grateful.  He wants me to stay in bed with him for the rest of the day so I thought I’d grab something to eat first – and get a pot of salve from Oin.”  He picked up a cushion and pushed it under himself.  “Anyone want to share him?” he asked plaintively.  “Just for the odd night.”

 

“No,” giggled Brangwyn.  “I’m afraid he’s all yours.”

 

At that moment, the elven king appeared at the door of the dining hall.

 

“Come on, Thorin,” he called.  “I need you.”

 

The king rolled his eyes in exhaustion.  Brangwyn and Dwalin covered their faces with their hands and Thorin could see their shoulders shaking. “Be careful what you wish for,” she managed to gasp out in the end.  “Now, off you go, like a good boy, because Thranduil really, really wants to be nice to you again.”

 

And while the elf stood with his arms crossed in the doorway and Thorin struggled up from his seat, the two collapsed in fits of laughter on the table once more.

 

.o00o.

 

**It’s amazing, isn’t it, just how un-smooth the course of this pair’s true love is, LOL?  Did you find that fun?**

**If you enjoyed this and are new to my _Two Kings_ series, then perhaps you’d like to read some more.  The one just before this, _The Kings and the Role-Play_ , describes the mess they get into when they try to spice up their sex life – as if it needs any spicing up.  And the story involving Thranduil making strawberry tarts for Thorin is in _The Kings Tell It Like It Was_ : find out why the elven king makes these for Thorin and why he’s such a good cook.  And since Thorin has obviously survived the Battle of the Five Armies, you might want to go back to the very beginning of their story and find out how he does it in _King of the Antlered Throne._**

 

 

 

 

 

 


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